


Prisoner of War

by AlterEgon



Category: A Knight's Tale (2001)
Genre: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlterEgon/pseuds/AlterEgon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Edward is taken captive after a bloody battle. William sets out to return his prince to safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1shinymess (magpie4shinies)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/gifts).



William was bent over the map table with one of the generals when the messenger rode into camp.

The rider was one of Edward's guard, and the condition both he and his horse were in suggested nothing good. The animal was lathered, and it stood trembling where its master had stopped it. The man was swaying in the saddle. A bloody bandage was wrapped around one upper arm. He seemed almost as badly out of breath as his mount.

"Ambush," he gasped. "They took us by surprise… The prince … taken…"

"Get the man some water!" William ordered his squire as he looked around to see who had heard what could easily turn into a bad rumor.

Luckily it was still early in the day, the camp just waking up – except for those who, like him and the general, had been about to complete the day's plans. No damage done there yet, hopefully.

The squire – a boy of fourteen who had lost his former master to the war already and who had attached himself to William – came running with a cup, nearly colliding with the man who was just sliding off of his horse. The soldier gladly accepted the drink and gulped it down before looking up at William. His eyes brimmed with despair.

"They took Prince Edward," he repeated in barely more than a whisper. "Most of the men are dead, but they dragged off the Prince. He was fighting like three or four men, but there were so many of them… they dragged him away. I don't know if any others made it but I… had to warn you…" His eyes begged for William to agree, not to call him a coward or berate him for leaving the scene.

The young knight obliged gladly, feeling every word as he said it. "You did well," he said. "We needed to know. Now. Do not speak of this to anyone. We will get Prince Edward back, but some of the men would … be hit very hard by such news. Do you understand me? No one but the people who already know must learn of this."

The soldier nodded, reluctantly. He was used to listening to the knights, to take their commands at face value. He was also quite relieved that he did not seem to be court-martialled for coming back instead of staying to fight to his last breath.

Leaning in and lowering his own voice, the knight  continued. "Tell me exactly where the battle took place. Or as exactly as you can. I need a place to start looking."

He listened as the soldier squeezed shut his eyes and recounted everything he remembered, his voice no louder than William's and increasingly slurred from exhaustion.

Eventually, William beckoned to his squire. "Find this man a place to rest… a physician if he needs one, and proper food. And tend to that horse. Otherwise, report to Roland. He will give you work while I am gone."

"You're leaving?" the boy asked. "But – I should come with you! I'm your--"

William cut him off. "Not on this ride. Some things a man has to do by himself. You listen to what Roland tells you, and do _not_ speak of anything you just heard. To anyone. If I return and find that you have let anything slip, you will regret the day we ever met. Do I make myself clear?"

The boy swallowed any protest he might have had and nodded mutely.

"Good." Quite aware that the squire was going to be the weakest link in his attempt to keep the camp from panicking at the news, William considered for a second if it would not, after all, be better to take him along. The thought of dragging a half-trained squire through God knew how many leagues of country held by the enemy, the ways in which being responsible for another life but his own would keep him back, made him stick with his initial plan, however. He would go alone.

He watched his squire lead the soldier away  and turned, waving to the general to join him. He would have to talk to his friends, make sure they knew what to do in his absence.

"You are not seriously considering going all on your own?" The general  asked him. "You must take at least some men, better an entire –"

"Sir, with all due respect but that would be nonsense." Geoffrey Chaucer seemed to appear at William's elbow almost out of nowhere. In a corner of his mind, William wondered how much he had heard already. He had not seen him around, but Chaucer had become astonishingly good at hiding in corners and shadows recently. Come to think of it, maybe it was a talent that he had always possessed, but not used to _his_ benefit before.

Oblivious to his friend's musings, the poet went on, addressing the general. "A large number of men, or even a small group, will most likely be noticed. The enemy has the benefit of numbers. A single man may be able to sneak in where a larger group would be doomed. Much as I hate to admit it…" he sent a wry smile in William's direction, "Sir William is right. It is the best chance we have."

The general considered and grudgingly nodded. "You may be right," he admitted. "I do not like it, but you may be right. When are you leaving?"

"The moment I have informed Roland," William said. "He can tell the others. I do not want to waste any more time."

"Then I'll tell Roland," Chaucer offered. "And the others. And prepare a little something to tell the masses about where you got to, and why Prince Edward hasn't returned. Go on, William. We'll keep the camp under control for you."

William nodded heart-felt thanks at Chaucer as he turned towards the horses instead of Roland's tent. "Thank you," he said. "Try not to destroy the place while I'm gone."

"Will do," Chaucer promised. "William?"

He stopped and turned to look back at his herald and friend.

"Bring back our Prince."


	2. Chapter 2

The site of the battle was impossible to miss. Carrion-eaters were still feasting, and the hot days of high summer ensured quite a unique aroma in the air over the field strewn with corpses and body parts.

The soldier had ridden through the night. William, not planning on killing his horse, or the spare he had brought, on the way there _or_ back, opted for a fast but not insane pace. He would help no one if he lost their best chance of returning to their people on the way, or if he was thrown and broke his neck.

The horses, though used to battle and its aftermath, made clear that they had misgivings about getting close to that field of death. Silently apologizing to the faithful animals, William applied his spurs. He had no time to lose talking into account the horses' finer noses.

At least the enemy had not gone to any effort to hide their trail as they left the field. That could mean two things: they might be certain that no one was going to follow them before it was much too late and wind and weather had masked the marks they left sufficiently, or they were laying a trap deliberately.

Hoping for the former and expecting the latter, William cautiously followed the tracks. He was nearly a day and a half behind them, by his estimate. He would have to rest, but so would they. That was actually a benefit. Setting up camp for many tended to take much longer than the time he would need to find a spot to sleep for himself.

He followed them all through the next day, his progress marked by the increasing freshness of marks left by them, horse droppings and the random dead body left by the roadside. Those gave him a sense of grim satisfaction – they must have been the ones injured by their side in the battle who had not survived their wounds.

By dusk, he thought he could make out banners on a hill in the distance. Leaving his horses in the shelter of a copse of trees, he continued on foot to confirm that it was the enemy's camp that he had found.

They had done good work, resting on an unforested hill from which they had a good view, and anyone sneaking up on them would have a hard time creeping close without being noticed.

He withdrew silently, returning to the horses and leading them as little way further away before mounting and riding, away from the camp.

The enemy had followed the course of a meandering river for a while, and left it apparently to head for precisely the hill they were camping on now.

William returned to the water, picketing the horses so that they could, with some effort, break free if anything happened and he was unable to return.  Glancing around to memorize the spot, he noticed a deeper shade of darkness just over the water's surface at the other bank.

Investigating quickly, since he had no intention to return to find his horses driven off or eaten by some predator that happened to have its lair here, he found a hollow large enough to accommodate a group of people if they were willing to crouch down. He climbed down to the river, which was running low from heat and lack of rain. Nothing suggested that the hollow had been used as shelter by anything alive recently. Its 'roof' was held up by a web of roots that belonged to the two trees growing above it and seemed secure enough. Following a sudden notion, he climbed back up and removed one of his packs from the horse to throw it inside, covering them with loose earth and leaves. Now if the horses got stolen or chased off while he was gone, he wouldn't lose everything he had brought, and if they had to jump on the horses and be gone quickly, they would still have the pack that remained attached to the saddle.

Checking his weapons and equipment, William set out on foot to return to the camp unseen under  the cover of darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Dressed in plain clothing, no armor to betray his position, no sigil or coat of arms to tell his allegiance, William was reasonably sure that he could pass as a local as long as he did not speak and give himself away by accent or lack of language skills.

His best chance, if he was discovered, would probably be acting the half-wit, posting as a mute or deaf-mute and hoping he would be deemed a harmless fool who had wandered away from his keepers. Of course there _was_ the problem of explaining how he had gotten the dagger on his hip, or the one hidden in his boot, both of which were of very good, though not superb, quality – or any of the other things that he had hidden in his pockets. If he was thought a thief he ran danger of losing a hand, or worse.

Actually, he decided, his best chance was not to be discovered at all.

Crawling on hands and knees, he slowly made his way from the last cover that he could find to the perimeter of the camp.

The enemy guards had lit fires, probably to keep off the wolves he could hear howling in the distance from time to time. They certainly didn't need them to stay warm.

In any case, however, William knew quite well that a man sitting by a fire would be blinded against the more subtle differences between shadow and shadow, darkness and sneaking body.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he finally was able to lay his hands against the large wheels of a cart and quickly slid beneath it. Pulling himself forward, he moved until he could peek out from under the edge of the cart on the camp-side.

What he saw in the light of the torches and fires they used suggested that this camp was meant to last for more than one night. Maybe they were trying to give their  wounded a break… The physicians' area was clearly marked by the sounds of pain that penetrated the night, filling the silence between the wolves' howls.

When no one had passed after a while, William crawled out from under the cart and slowly, carefully made his way through the camp, trying to figure out where they were keeping their prisoner.

In spite of the urgency of his mission and the apparent lack of guards patrolling the _inside_ of the camp, William forced himself to be cautious, stopping every few steps to listen and peering around corners carefully.

That caution saved his life when he caught a glimpse of flame reflected on metal.

He withdrew, crouching low and inching forward until he could peek around the corner at a height that people would not expect a shadow to happen to be a man's head.

Sure enough, there were two guards alertly guarding a prisoner. A prisoner who, judging by what he could make out of his posture in the dark, was bound and tied to a set of stakes driven into the ground.

William quickly did the math and calculated his chances. One guard he might have been able to overpower. Two, less so. He couldn't tell if Edward was injured, and if so, how badly. That also made it impossible to guess at how much help he could be in getting rid of the guards if he managed to cut him loose first.

Of course it all was going to be in vain because any commotion would sure wake up and bring others running.

Hit-and-run was not going to be an option.

The very beginnings of a plan started to form in his mind as he slowly crept backwards to conceal himself under another cart. Judging by the smells emanating from it, as well as by the sacks and barrels put down by its side, it held cooking supplies. Squeezing himself below it, he wriggled until he found a position that seemed somewhat bearable to be in for an extended period of time, and settled in for a long wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Pained screams woke him from the half-doze he had fallen into, and he just managed to remember where he was to avoid jerking up and hitting his head against the cart, or giving himself away otherwise. He knew that voice, even though it sounded raw already.

The light and the shadows he could see from his position suggested that it was well into the day. He focused on the pain and discomfort his cramped position brought in spite of how carefully he had arranged his body the night before.

Carefully, he moved his arms and legs by tiny fractions to relieve cramps without drawing undue attention. He surreptitiously patted the pocket that held a small bag of seeds – seeds that would hopefully buy him the time he needed to get Prince Edward out of the camp by nightfall.

He prayed as he had rarely prayed before that the prince would still be alive and capable of fleeing by then.

The screams stopped, giving way to normal camp sounds. He had guessed right – the cart that concealed him held cooking supplies, and the cooks had set up huge pots in which something stew-like… well … _stewed_.

They were not particularly careful about guarding them, dropping by only once in a while to check on the fires. Of course – in the heat of summer, no one much appreciated spending more time than necessary around burning fires.

William would have preferred a cooler hiding spot as well, but he did appreciate the extra safety. Besides, it made it all the easier to slip out and add a generous helping of seeds to each of the pots once it became clear that they would not be used before the evening meal.

Wat, Roland and he had used those very seeds once to play a prank on Sir Ector. It was Roland who had known of them, Wat who had suggested they use them and he who had smuggled them into the knight's meal.

They were harmless enough, but they did require anyone who ate them to spend a considerable amount of time in the latrine shortly afterwards. The two main insecurities were that he did not know how many he needed on a pot that size, and that he wasn't sure if the stewing would reduce the effect.

To keep the risk from the latter as low as possible, he waited for as long as he dared before crawling out, carefully stretching limbs stiff from the hours spent nearly unmoving, and improved the stew until there was nothing left in his pocket.

He returned to his hiding spot and waited.

It didn't take long for men to arrive and carry off some of the pots to distribute the food. Others ladled stew into bowls right there, and took those away, either to eat elsewhere or to bring them to those who were on guard duty and could not come to get their own food.

William tried to remember exactly how long it had taken back then before Sir Ector had jumped up from the table and raced outside. For good measure, he added another interval when he thought that time had passed.

Then he quietly made his way to where he had seen Edward in the night.

He nearly panicked as he peered around the corner. There was nothing and no one there. The stakes were still sticking from the ground, but neither guards nor prisoner were anywhere to be seen.

Forcing himself to remain calm, he thought hard about what to do next.

After another second, he turned to where the screams had come from earlier, but not without picking up a helmet and cloak that someone had dropped on a mad dash for the privy on the way.

In a clear area between tents and another two carts, a crude wooden frame had been erected, reminiscent of a door frame.

The prince was tied up inside it, arms stretched painfully up and to the sides. His head sagged against his shoulder. William fought down another surge of panic. If he was unconscious it would be bloody hard to get him out of the camp.

Wearing the enemy's helmet and cloak offered flimsy protection, but since it was still better than nothing, he did so as he quickly crossed the distance that separated him from Edward.

He noticed with relief that his body tensed when he came up behind him.

"Let's get you out of here, my liege," William whispered, not wasting precious time on more words than necessary. He stood on tiptoe and started sawing at the ropes that held Edward's right hand.

"William?" The prince's voice was rough from screaming, lack or water or both. His tone suggested that he was not quite certain that he was actually awake and sane.

"Yes," William whispered back, moving to Edward's other side, forcing himself to ignore the tattered shirt and blood. Someone had really enjoyed administering the flogging of Edward's life, it seemed. "Can you walk?"

The Black Prince nodded, carefully moving his freed arm to return life into it.

William finished hacking through the other rope and quickly glanced down to make sure that Edward's feet were free.

"Let's go."

The prince took a step, staggered and nearly fell. William reached out to support him, pulling him aside as quickly as the prince's weakened state permitted.


	5. Chapter 5

The seeds had done their work, leaving the perimeter of the camp virtually unguarded with most soldiers vying for a place on the privy or in a secluded corner.

In spite of their inability to sneak, they made it out and all the way into the shelter of the trees at the foot of the hill.

William felt like he had been holding his breath all the time since he had started cutting Edward free.

"I left horses by the  river," he told the prince. "It's just a little bit farther. You can rest soon."

Edward nodded, not wasting breath on giving an answer. He leaned heavily into the knight with every step.

They had not gone far when his foot caught on a root and he fell, taking William with him .

The younger man was on his feet again almost immediately, holding out a hand for Edward to take to assist him in getting up as well.

"Come on!" he urged when Edward ignored it.

The Black Prince shook his head. "Go on," he said. "Leave me. I'll… We'll both get caught otherwise."

"No!" All the fear and tension of the last days made itself way in that one defiant word. "No we won't. I haven't come this far to leave you. _We_ are going back and _you_ will lead your army to victory, if I have to kick your ass from here to England and back!"

"William." Edward's voice sounded strange. Was the prince begging? "Look at me."

"I know you're hurt. I know you're in pain. Soon, soon you can rest, and heal…" William spoke quickly, his words chasing each other, until Edward interrupted him.

"My eyes, William - I can't see." He lifted his head, and the younger knight saw that his eyes looked red and swollen. "They poured something in my face – it still burns, and I can't see anything."

William reached down and closed his hand tightly around Edward's arm, pulling up. "It's going to wear off," he declared, although he had no idea if he was speaking the truth. "Now come on. We've wasted more than enough time. Get up and get going. Or I swear, I will sit down right here next to you and wait for them to get both of us."

That brought Edward back to his feet, albeit unhappily.

William moved in closer, equally supporting and guiding him along.

The way seemed to go on forever. There was no way they could make it back to the horses without leaving tracks, so he didn't bother to even try.

The moment they finally reached the horses, the wind carried the first sounds of jingling tack and angry voices to them.

Edward had been leaning on him increasingly heavily the farther they had come, letting William carry almost all of his weight towards the end. The knight made a quick, hard decision as he considered their options.

There was hardly a chance that his Prince would be able to stay seated on a racing horse. There was no way that a horse carrying both of them could outrace an enemy charger.

"Edward," he said, dropping all titles and courtesies. "Do you trust me?"

The prince nodded.

William swallowed. "How much?"

"Implicitly."

Wordlessly, William turned, untied the horses with a quick motion and sent them on their way with a hard slap on their backsides.

"What…?" Edward was confused, though if that was because he couldn't place the sounds or because he realized what had just happened, William couldn't tell.

"Come," he said. "We're going underground."

As quickly as he could, he guided the prince to the edge of the river and down to the water, where he placed Edward's hands against the edge of the opening and pushed down his head. "Crawl in," he commanded. "All the way to the rear. Then _don't move."_

To his relief, the prince obeyed. He jumped in behind him, hoping that the growing dark and increasing shadows would be enough to conceal their presence. Hoping that his plan would work out and their pursuers found the horses' tracks and would follow them, thinking they had escaped on horseback. Hoping that their horses had neither ran straight back to their own camp, nor stopped just around the corner to eat.

He lay motionless, his back against the prince, eyes closed to avoid any telltale gleam, listening and feeling for every breath Edward took. He literally held his breath when a group of riders came thundering down, someone yelling something unintelligible in French, then raced on. He didn't dare move until night had truly fallen.

 


	6. Chapter 6

William had brought Edward fresh water from the river and food from the pack he had hidden earlier. He spent most of the night soaking the scraps of cloth stuck to the wounds on Edward's back to pull them off with a minimum amount of pain, alternating those ministrations with washing out the prince's eyes with a soaked rag. Edward hissed in pain every time he touched his back, but he did not protest.

In fact, the only time that he did speak was to offer a quiet "thank you". Otherwise, he saved his strength, dozing when the pain permitted, focusing on remaining quiet the rest of the time.

They spent the day pressed against the back of the hollow again, freezing at every sound. William wasn't going to try travelling in broad daylight – not when there was still a risk of them searching the area for the captive.

They set out again under cover of the night, William carrying the pack and guiding Edward. He tried to keep the breaks to a minimum, but there were far more of them than he was comfortable with. They were moving so slowly!

Following the river, they at least had plenty of shelter from the sun provided by the trees on either side of it.

"It's getting light," William observed after what seemed to be centuries of slow walking and picking the way that was easiest for the prince to navigate blind. "We'll use the next chance we get for shelter.

Edward nodded mutely. As the night wore on, he had started to lean on William more and more again. He was quite obviously in pain, and the knight forced himself to ignore anything that suggested that he was running a fever. It was summer after all. He would be hot anyway.

They spent the day hiding in a dense stand of trees – the best they could find as shelter from being seen – and set out again at dusk. A day's sleep had once again given Edward back some strength, and he was walking on his own for a while before, like the previous night, he needed to rely on William's support. At least he didn't seem to be getting worse.

The third day offered even less shelter than the second had. William was unable to conceal his concern about it from Edward, once he had slept a bit and was able to focus on anything other than pain and an effort to keep walking.

"Let's just go on then," he suggested. "If they catch us, I'd rather be caught moving than trying to hide in a place that won't hide us anyway."

Reluctantly, William agreed.

They were moving even more slowly in the heat of the day. Edward wrapped the stolen cloak around himself to ward off the inevitable flies that tried to feast when an awkward movement tore open one of the cuts on his back, causing a trickle of fresh blood.

"I think I see shadows," he announced after a while of walking through the sun. "And there's where the light is coming from – right?"

"I told you the blindness was only temporary," William relied nonchalantly, trying not to show the immense relief he was feeling.

*

They had finally come to the point where they were leaving the river and cutting across the country. If they kept going at this pace, they would hit the battlefield in a couple more days. Edward was improving slowly, but steadily. William really didn't know what he would have done if he had lost the prince to his injuries after he had managed to get him out of the enemy camp.

Luckily that question would not be of any relevance anyway, and thus could be comfortably ignored.

They were walking in the morning and evening hours now, not for fear of discovery, but because they were the most comfortable times for walking. They would have to ration their water now that they left the steady supply running just a few steps to their side.

Both of them winced when they heard the sounds of tack, creaking leather and hoof beats.

"If they were still looking for us they'd have to come from the other direction," Edward pointed out, straining to see in the distance. His vision was still blurry, but he was able to pick his way without relying on William as a guide now.

William nodded, his hand nevertheless tightening on his dagger, just before he whooped with joy when a familiar figure with reddish-blonde hair rode into view. He raised both arms and waved frantically to the approaching man.

Geoffrey Chaucer reined in his horse just in front of them, and executed a precise bow from the saddle.

"My Prince," he said. "William. We've been waiting for you. Your horses are much more reliable, you know. They came trotting home a couple of days ago, looking like they'd had the time of their lives."

William laughed. "Geoff," he said, "I'll tell you all about it. You can even make a poem of it if you wish. But first – take us home!"

 


End file.
